Not the WORST Thing
by Narya's Bane
Summary: Alistair and Morrigan. Enemies. Rivals. But Friends? Lovers? Surely not... Inspired in part by Galavant (thus the title)
1. Maybe You're Not the Worst Thing Ever

Quick one or two shot written as a challenge from my husband. Could be part of "In the Family" universe or stand alone 'romance' for Alistair and Morrigan. Lyric line breaks from the musical Galavant.

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-You're frigid and demanding; I shudder at your call. The moment you come near me my flesh begins to crawl. But sometimes there are moments I'm not repelled at all. Maybe you're not the worst thing ever!-

They were traveling with the daughter of the witch of the wilds. While the newest Warden seemed to be of the opinion 'What more could go wrong' Alistair quickly answered the question in his head and grimaced as his thoughts provided 'Blood magic.' Just because she hadn't used it yet didn't mean she was unlikely or unable to after all! The very concept scared Alistair into vigilance. After all, nothing can stop a quest faster than being killed in your sleep by an apostate.

Morrigan was exactly what Alistair feared in wild magic. She was powerful, able to blend in by changing to a beast at a moment's notice, and from everything he has seen she was also emotionless. It was a dangerous combination, even if his companion didn't see it...

"Camp here tonight," the other Warden suggested. "We'll never make Lothering by nightfall, and I'd rather avoid any night bandits or Loghain's soldiers."

Alistair had to agree, but watched the witch. Morrigan seemed about to speak against it. Did she hate rest?

"This is a chasind burial ground," Morrigan finally explained. "If we head into the trees 'twil provide better cover and honor their dead."

The Warden agreed, but Alistair quietly was astounded. She was thinking of something honorable, something kind. Maybe it was just to keep them from attack, or maybe...

Maybe she wasn't quite his worst nightmare after all.

-You're utterly disgusting, and I loathe your manly stink. I see your mouth start moving and gods I need a drink. Then from out of nowhere I'll look at you and think maybe you're not the worst thing ever.-

Morrigan rolled her eyes. Of course it was Alistair who had gotten hurt. The sniveling child, and of course he wasn't quiet about his displeasure in it. Morrigan hated that she was the closest thing to a healer- they really needed someone strong in spirit magic, since she could do only so much with poultices. Plus it put her far too close to the wounded man.

Alistair was no princely figure. Morrigan actively held her breath while she worked, the smell of sweat and battle too strong for her delicate nose. At least hurting he wasn't...

"So you are the group's nursemaid now?"

Creators, why was he talking? How was he talking, even? This was deeper than she'd initially thought. Maybe she should have taken their Warden leader up on the offer of a drink before this to 'steady her hands.' It would have at least helped her shut out his voice. She tried to ignore him, an attempt that worked to silence him until she twisted tautly and he gave a quick shout.

"Are you trying to make it worse?" Alistair quipped with a hiss under his breath.

"Were I attempting such, you would know."

Alistair sighed. "Maker... I meant no offense."

"And I took none." Morrigan pulled back, the extent of her skills spent and her charge significantly less wounded than before she started. A thought occurred there, however. "Might I posit a question, Alistair?"

"Depends. Might choose not to answer if I don't like it?"

Morrigan nodded and asked. "You were nowhere near that bandit when we started, but still managed to take the hit. Why did you choose so?"

Alistair looked up, confused. "He was coming towards you. I know I can handle some damage, but I wasn't sure of your... constitution."

Morrigan accepted the answer as she stepped away, though that was more to hide the shock of his answer. He had willing put himself in the way to protect her- for whatever reason.

Maybe there was more to him than originally thought.

-You're worse than crabs, worse than scurvy, worse than lice or plague, but truth be told you're growing on me just like mold...-

"Now we have a dog, and Alistair is still the dumbest one in the party."

"You hurt my manly feelings. All one of them."

The words flew between the pair as they walked through the Deep Roads in search of the ancient thaig, but the acerbic cruelty was gone. Somewhere in the last month it had dissipated into friendly banter.

There was still mistrust. Of course there was. But on the other hand...

The group of hurlocks attacked. Before Morrigan registered them fully she heard Alistair's sword clashing to her right. She cast towards him with flame, filling the area to keep his opponents busy. From her other side she heard the other Warden and Wynn beginning their own battle, but she was fully focused as she took spider form and attacked alongside Alistair. The others disappeared for a moment.

It wasn't that Morrigan trusted him or liked him; he just worked well with her and seemed to have her back...

-I know you're so annoying, so easy to despise.

I'm sure there's something scary beneath those cold dead eyes.

Although I'll never like you it's nice to realize that maybe I shouldn't quite say never...-

The group had been together for six weeks, and Morrigan had never joined the others at their fire. Alistair had noticed, and decided something had to change. If she wouldn't come to them...

The witch seemed surprised to look up an see him sanding there. "Can I be of assistance?"

"I just was wanting to see how you were getting on," Alistair fumbled quietly. "So- how are you, Morrigan?"

The witch now looked dumbfounded. It was a subtle look, but Alistair was getting better at reading them. "I am well," she noted, confused.

"That's not..." Alistair sighed. "This was a bad idea." He turned to walk away, but was called back.

"Wait. If you wish to... sit and talk, or sit quietly, from time to time..."

Alistair smiled. That was exactly what he hoped. Perhaps in learning about her, he could put the last misgivings he had about apostates to rest. And if it turned to friendship or... Well, let it come as it would.

-Maybe you're not the worst thing ever.-


	2. Love is Strange

Part Two... because that was fun.

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-Love is strange and sometimes kind of gross; it's embarrassingly gassy and it leaves its dirty underwear in piles around the place.-

Morrigan groaned as she looked up to see the Warden's mabari bounding up to her with a full mouth.

"What is it now? A rabbit mayhaps? A rat?" The witch grumbled at the animal, sighing as it set its prize in front of her. She bent on a knee towards the mongrel and began to inspect the item...

"Stop!" Alistair came running up, jumping to tackle and practically wrestle the mabari to the ground. The hound whined loudly and rolled over, still crying at what it considered an unexpected attack. Morrigan sighed at the image, eyes rolling as she stooped to get a better look at the mabari's offering.

"Oh my." Morrigan chuckled as she reached for a nearby branch, first pushing then raising the offensive item. Underclothes. Apparently soiled underclothes. "Are these yours, Alistair?"

The former Templar blushed Crimson as he reached for the knickers. "They WERE clean before this... blighted piece of Barkspawn got them." The mabari growled unhappily and rose to trot away, offended by the name calling.

Morrigan laughed at the image of Alistair grabbing the offensive article of clothing. The warrior was blushing even now. "Worry not, Alistair. I have no interest in your underthings."

"I... ah... right." He took a deep breath and walked away, Morrigan chuckling at the image and the fact he actually seemed upset by her last comment. Truly though she might need to leave some extra meat for the beast next mealtime. That had been a welcome amusement for her night.

-Love is rude; it has a sort of smell and it thinks that you don't notice, and blurts out things that make you want to smack it's stupid face.-

"Couldn't you crawl up in a bush somewhere and die? That would be great."

Morrigan had been shocked when Alistair took offense at her teasing, but more at the cruel words he rushed out. It had been months since there had been the torment they'd experimented with at first, and they had become calm together- playful even. But she must have hit something in him when she mentioned his father; she was sure Eamon was the man she referred to, but that huff was dangerous. It made her rethink the teasing.

Alistair's sudden coldness still hurt though. She thought they were friends.

When they returned to the campsite, Morrigan was still distracted by the rampant thoughts. She made her own fire and set up there on her own, avoiding the others. Stupid blonde men with their stupid comments and their stupid...

"Morrigan? I'm..."

The magic user spun at the approach even as the voice registered. She was ready to cast as Alistair jumped back, reflexively going defensive and obviously prepared to counter her magic if used. "Apologies," Morrigan sighed flippantly as she eased her stance. "How can I be of assistance?"

"I was hoping to make an apology. I... spoke out of place today." He rubbed his head. "It was a mistake."

Morrigan caught her breath. He was rude and certainly spoke out of turn... but he was also self-reflective and could learn.

"Do not trouble yourself. I could have been more tactful myself."

"You think so?" He smiled at her oddly, and Morrigan felt something tug inside her. "May I sit with you, Morrigan?"

"I welcome your company." Somehow, she truly did.

-And it's awkward and confusing; it annoys you half to death, then it grins that dopey grin and you can't catch your breath...-

Alistair was aggravating; Alistair was sweet. Alistair was crude; Alistair was innocent.

Morrigan had been raised to ignore emotions tied to men, told that they would only hurt her, but Alistair seemed different. He was awkward until on the battlefield, when he had a sudden grace and ease that would rival anyone. He had grown much, even in just the months she had known him; yet he also remained childish.

The former Templar was an enigma. Then Morrigan would catch him in an unguarded moment, talking with his fellow warden or listening to one of Leliana's stories, and his smile would stop her in her tracks.

And Morrigan found herself wondering if her mother could have been wrong in at least this one thing about human emotions.

-Love is strange and sometimes sort of smug and it's really really bossy and it messes with your head 'til you're a hopeless basket case.-

Alistair palmed the item he had found carefully, wondering exactly why he felt the need to make a gift to Morrigan anyway. Except she had started to talk to him even at camp, and he felt he maybe owed her some regard. This item he had found and somehow, strangely, thought of her. So he found himself approaching her in the edges of the camp with a tentative smile, not quite understanding why he felt so nervous.

"Morrigan? Do you have a moment?"

"Do I seem otherwise occupied?" She had that knowing grin, the one Alistair hated with a passion. It spoke of cruelty that belonged to her mother, not her.

"Not particularly," Alistair admitted.

"Then I fail to see the use of your question." That said, she turned as if to go to her tent.

"I thought you had a moment."

"True. Though I do not recall you requesting I spend said minute with you."

"I thought..."

"That 'twould be a novelty."

Alistair sighed, rolling his eyes. "I got... That is, I found..." The warrior sputtered out to silence, passing the item over. "Here. It's for you."

The hand mirror was ornate, finely decorated and beautiful. Morrigan's eyes went wide as she inspected it, turning it over and over in er hands. "This is- where..." She paused, breathing as if having to recall the motions. "Thank you. It is- will be- dear to me." With that she turned again to head towards her own tent alone, but stopped at the entry to look back at Alistair.

She smiled softly. And the very expression seemed to make Alistair's head explode.

-And it's stubborn, it's insulting, it's obnoxious: it's the worst! You keep pushing it away and you fall in head first.-

Alistair was unsure of Morrigan.

Oh it wasn't the previous 'is she going to kill us all?' unease he had felt when the witch first joined them. No, this was entirely more infuriating. It was enough to completely take over his head.

Because it was awkward and confusing. Morrigan was an enigma, one moment kind and the next unhappily frigid. It had gotten worse lately, even as her eyes darted to him more and more often. It was almost unnerving.

Alistair found himself wanting... something. Something more. He saw the glances Zevran sent towards the Warden and couldn't help but be a little jealous. It may not be wholly romantic, but it was obvious that the elf was lusting. Or at least thought he was. Jealousy was stubborn, and Alistair was unable to shake the way those glances made him desire.

Zevran was lusty, and Morrigan was just inquisitive. His fellow Warden was oblivious, and Alistair...

Alistair knew. He was Chantry raised as a teenager after all; it took a lot to manipulate his sensibilities.

It would take love.

Oh Maker no. Let it be Leliana, let it be the Warden... Zevran or Wynn even. Not...

"Alistair? Don't tell me you've gone dumb of mouth as well as head?"

He gulped. "Sorry Morrigan. I was briefly distracted. Won't happen again."

-Love is strange, and often pretty drunk... It looks different without makeup, and it's nothing like the fairy tales you grow up dreaming of.-

Redcliffe was the last stop on their journey, thankfully. It had taken most of the year, and only now could Alistair admit his greatest undoing to his companions. That did not make him any better equipped to deal with admitting to being the bastard son of the king, nor did it make his friend's immediate inkling to back him for the throne of Fereldan feel any less preposterous. This why he was here in the tavern, in the corner, very nearly drunk.

No. He WAS drunk, but he still had enough of his wits about him to know that he was drunk and that was... well it was something.

"Alistair!"

He looked up blearily to see Morrigan standing there. It was early morning, and she wasn't quite put together yet. Her eyes were darkly rimmed with sleeplessness, and she had a scowl. Maker, she'd been worried. "'M sorry," he mumbled.

"I'm sure you are. Quite a sorry state you're in." She grabbed his shoulder. "All will be well, Alistair. I promise."

"Can't promise anything."

She seemed to pause at that. "I..."

"Don't tell me you started believing in happy endings." Alistair scoffed, considerably less drunkenly than he should be.

"Do you mean to tell me you've stopped?" Morrigan challenged in turn.

Alistair just sighed as he stood. "I take it we have to get going?"

"An astute assessment."

"Then lead on."

-Love is weird; love is dumb; love is strange and that's what makes it love.-

It should have been impossible. Yet Alistair held to something his companion had said: nobody tells the king what to do. And blast it if his fellow Warden wasn't right. So as Alistair took the throne of the king and agreed to a life of service to Fereldan he reached his hand out to Morrigan.

"Would you join me?"

The witch, the apostate woman blinked. They had talked about this many times since he had presented her with the rose and she had begun sneaking into his tent near nightly. She knew he loved her, and suspected what felt she felt for him was like-minded.

Still... an apostate? As queen? Surely not.

"Your highness, the people.."

"Will love her as I do, in time," Alistair assured. He met Morrigan's eyes again and silently mouthed 'Please?'

Morrigan reached and accepted his hand, letting him pull her close. She whispered in his ear, "You'd better not be messing with me."

"Never." Alistair was suppressing a shiver at her sudden harshness, but since she followed it with a kiss it was acceptable.


End file.
